Under the Veil
by planet p
Summary: Chloe is having strange dreams, T.J. is down; Eli cuts his finger.


Amatel's hair and skin was black from ash, her clothing heavy with it. She stumbled, dazed, in the vague direction of freedom, escape.

Asiel materialised by her side, concern dictating over the muscles of his face; eyes dark.

She looked upon him as though he was someone she had never met before; a foreigner, perhaps.

It was moments before she understood, before she recalled; the Healer. She moved to him quickly, taking his hands in hers. "You must work," she told him; there was much to be accomplished, much to do.

Figures glided toward them, then; shadows given life.

Sidras, and Usha. "They no longer own us, Asiel," Sidras brayed, her once melodious voice harsh from the cinder and smoke. "Their power over us dwindles, and dies, pitifully, in the dirt from which they sprang. Come with us, brethren."

Amatel clutched Asiel's hands tighter, but even she could feel that they were slipping from her grasp, aided by the gritty ash coating her hands as a second skin. _You cannot leave me_, she conveyed her words with her eyes. _I have not permitted it; you shall remain by my side._

"Asiel," Usha hissed in urgency, "the future approaches; the time for decisions is now."

_Please_, Amatel pleaded, her throat too weak to manifest real, audible words.

Asiel's hands slipped from her grasp, she felt her knees weakening. "I shall shortly join you; go ahead," Asiel informed the pair.

The woman, Sidras, scowled; Usha gave a quick, sharp nod. Of course, they would go ahead.

Amatel sunk to her knees; darkness invaded her vision, moving in hasty gallops from the sides of her eyes, spreading father, darkening her world. Her time for this world was almost over; she was coming to an end.

She thought of Andra, her younger sister.

_Oh, Andra!_ her heart cried out, as though to leap from her chest, from her very soul, to join her lost sibling.

Distantly, she felt hands on her face; lightening underneath her skin.

Strange, foreign words drifted in and out of her mind's ear, marching, chanting, from her comprehension; Ardia, Eva, Gloria.

She saw eyes; blue becoming brown; sky becoming earth, Heaven falling.

* * *

Chloe's eyes shot open, her heart beating quick in alarm. Darkness rushed to nestle with her, to take comfort in her warmth, to snuggle against skin, against blanket.

Quietude; _The ship_, she thought, _I am on the ship_.

Her heartbeat calmed, moment by moment, lulled by the hum she no longer registered; the hum of the ship; of the many shared breaths, and shared heartbeats.

Who did she share her heartbeat with tonight? she wondered, as she listened for her breathing, for the calming down.

_A dream_, she told herself. _A dream, no more._

Eventually, she lay back down.

_Rest_, she thought.

* * *

"Do you ever dream of Earth?" Chloe asked, as she sat in the Mess; not sure to whom, exactly, but _to_ someone.

"I do," Eli offered. "I dream I'm a nerd; I even have the hair, you _know_, the fringe combed to one side; I wear these shoes that are always shiny, I mean, always, these shoes will _never_ lose their shine. We go to the same college, in my dream."

Chloe looked at him, turning her head slowly.

"What do you dream about?" he asked, as eager as he was interested.

"Death," she said, emotionless.

A flicker passed over Eli's eyes, a shadow, but no words were spoken.

"In my dream, I'm a ballerina," Camile replied dryly, and then, suddenly, colour filled her eyes; laughter filled her throat, and spilled from her lips. "My parents had me attend lessons, but I was so bad they finally gave up; it was a big waste of money!"

Somehow, Eli couldn't picture that; instead, he pictured death. He hoped, that, later, he didn't picture Camile dancing her way through the scene, merrily, in a ballerina's costume.

* * *

T.J. was cleaning, and, busy with that, she hadn't noticed Eli's approach.

"Do you ever sometimes feel like maybe Chloe's depressed?" he asked, prompting a frown.

T.J. swirled bodily from the bench top she'd been cleaning, "Say that again."

"Do you think Chloe's depressed?" he repeated, opting for a shorter, more precise diction; which just happened, also, to be less personal.

T.J.'s face scrunched and crunched in a deeper frown. "The verdict is still out for me, Eli," she told him. "But what do you think? Is that the way it seems to you?"

"She asked if we ever dream of Earth, well, I don't know, maybe she was just asking me," a frown creased his voice, "anyway, this was just before, and then, when I said that I did, and what I dreamed, she said that she dreamed of death." His eyes cast about the room, searching for something, for some measure of articulation in the emptiness and spaciousness, in the bottles and card packets, in the instruments and the gleam of cold metal. "Like in a real spooky way, and all," he added, finally.

"Perhaps I could talk to her," T.J. suggested gently. Her hands were sweating in the disposable gloves; they'd gone all tingly. It was sorta uncomfortable, now that she was paying mind to it. "Do you think she'd go for that? Think she'd talk?"

Eli shrugged; he really couldn't say.

"What do you think?"

He nodded quickly, jerkily. "Yeah; no, I'm not disagreeing."

T.J. smiled, "That's what I'll do then," she told him.

He nodded again. "T.J.?" he said, finally.

"Yes, Eli?"

"Thanks…"

* * *

"What did you do?"

"No, it's nothing."

"Of course it's something, I can see you pulling all manner of faces."

Eli's face dropped even further; he proffered his hand, the offending finger included. "It's a stupid nick, that's all," he complained. It wasn't anything to get worked up over; it wasn't as though he had AIDS, or anything.

"I'd suggest you have T.J. put something on it," Rush told him. He wouldn't want to get anything in it, and Heaven forbid it should become infected.

"It's just a paper cut!" Eli whined.

Rush looked about him. "I don't see any paper," he said.

"I mean, it's _like_ a paper cut!" Eli defended. It wasn't a big thing. It was crappy, but it would hardly kill him. He glanced down at it and blew on it experimentally. "I can't even feel it anymore," he added.

Rush frowned. "Have T.J. take a look at it, either way."

Eli dropped his shoulders. "Why?"

"It'll give T.J. something to do, and, as you have already pointed out, it's relatively minor; it'll make T.J. feel better to know that she's helped at least one person today."

Eli made a fresh face. "You want to make T.J. feel better?" he questioned, as though the very idea was foreign and therefore painful to him. "You want _me_ to make T.J. feel better? Why? I mean, is she even… unhappy?"

"I don't foresee any harm coming of it," Rush told him, "anything to ameliorate the morale of one can surely only work to benefit the morale of all."

Eli narrowed his eyes. "'Amel-'"

"Improve," Rush rephrased. He glanced to the door pointedly. "Off with you now, alacritous."

Eli sighed heavily, allowing his shoulders to droop. Though he wouldn't admit it, his finger was still stinging. "What does _that_ mean?" he demanded, kinda tired.

"From 'alacrity;' brisk, ready."

Eli rolled his eyes to the top of his head. "Fear not, Math Boy aways," he declared, striding for the door.

Rush turned away from his retreating back and returned his attention to the console he'd been working on before Eli's cut finger.

Eli stepped into the corridor, slowing his pace a few paces along it. Yeah, right, Rush probably only wanted to get rid of him!

Anyway, it was too freaky to think it might be because he gave a damn!

Way too freaky!

* * *

"Oh, how did you do that?"

T.J.'s voice was heavy with disappointment, but Eli forced himself to muster a grin. Every time she touched it, or turned it around to look at it from a different angle, it stung again. "Just… I don't even remember. I mean, obviously it was when I was working on the console in the lab where I was working with…" He gave a short half yowl.

T.J. raised her eyebrows. "The feeling will pass," she assured him, somewhat automaton.

His eyes were scrunched up in a wince, "Did you-"

"No, Eli," she immediately responded, "I haven't had the time."

Eli shrugged; it was cool. He watched T.J. fixing a sticky plaster onto his finger, squeezing his uninjured hand into a fist at his side. Crap, it really hurt!

Predictable, though, that it should decide to do so now; when he was trying to be strong and cheer T.J. up. _Felled by a paper cut_, he thought humourlessly. _Oh, mighty Math Boy! Mighty Loser Boy, more like!_

"How's that, now?" T.J. asked, disposing of the plaster's wrapping in a container for disposables behind her, and turning back to scrutinise his face.

He grinned. "Yeah, great! Hey, thanks, T.J. You're the coolest!"

T.J. nodded, fanning her face with a hand. "Oh, I'm feeling cool!"

Eli left the Infirmary feeling crappy. He hadn't even succeeded in lightening T.J.'s mood, which he hadn't realised had been a 'mood,' and his finger seemed to be punishing him for it by stinging more than ever.

* * *

"Amel-whatever sucked!" he declared, upon entering the lab once more. "Actually, it's more like crashed and burned, really." He huffed. "Math Boy sucks!"

"Alright, if you say so," Rush replied, not really paying attention because he was already paying attention to one of the consoles which was apparently way less sucky than sucky Eli Wallace, AKA, Ruiner of T.J.'s Day!

Eli lumbered over to one of the available consoles and let his shoulders fall. He might as well do something, he supposed, mentally kicking himself for his lack of enthusiasm to get stuck into it.

* * *

Chloe appeared in the doorway an hour later.

Rush looked up first.

Eli was busy prodding something on the console which, despite the prodding, didn't seem to be doing _anything_; he wondered if they'd all be sucked out into space in a minute, or two minutes.

"Eli?" Chloe called.

"Damn! You!" Eli muttered, prodding the console harder. "Huh?" His face shot up; he took in the sight of Chloe in the door. He stopped prodding; didn't want to get Chloe sucked out into space, not Chloe. "I'm over here," he answered. He let out a sigh. "But I guess you'd already kinda deduced that, huh?"

Chloe nodded and moved into the room, ignoring Rush as though maybe he wasn't even there, maybe Eli was only _imagining_ he was.

Eli wondered if Rush _was_ really there; he'd been awfully quiet for the past hour. Was Rush usually that quiet?

"What happened to your finger?" Chloe asked. She didn't ask, _What did you do to your finger?_ as though he'd done it on purpose, as T.J. had.

He shrugged, feigning unconcern. "Nothing. The bandaid's just there as a reminder, I guess."

"What is it to remind you of?" she asked softly.

"Work harder, slack off less; don't hurt yourself cos you reckon it'll get you an easy pardon," he rambled.

Chloe smiled. "Don't work too hard," she told him.

He shook his head; as if! "Nah!"

She waved and turned again, and walked out of the room.

Eli waved back, but she'd already gone.

He looked at the console; he didn't want to look at Rush: Chloe hadn't even acknowledged that he had been in the room, too.

"A fine attitude the lass's got going there, to be sure," Rush intoned, probably to himself.

'To be sure' sounded like something out of a boring, old essay, Eli thought.

* * *

**Just a thought, do you think people will ever start calling the Chloe/Rush pairing Crush, or I guess it could be Click (for Chloe/Nick)?**

**I want to try and make this Chloe/Nicholas… Uh-huh; so you say…**

**What's with the weird names? Did someone say Healer? Quick, ah… do something! (Not again! / I like Healers, sorry…)**

**Thanks for reading.**

**I don't own _Stargate: Universe_.**


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